


Vladimir and Estragon Cope with Their Trauma

by Volo



Series: My Davekat Fanworks [12]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Afterlife, Bullying, Child Abuse, Coping, Depression, Humanstuck, Loneliness, M/M, Moving On, Past Character Death, Philosophy, Soulmates, Starvation, Suicide, it's not as heavy as it sounds, the dialogue is actually pretty funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volo/pseuds/Volo
Summary: Sixteen-year-olds and The Afterlife.“No. Uh, I’m not Death. Not as far as I know, at least. That’d be major weird, right?”“That’d be weird? Yeah. This situation hasn’t been weird at all so far. But that! That would be weird.”“Bro, you don’t have to tell me this is weird.” Dave crosses his arms. “I’m not Death. I’m dead, just like you. I just haven’t been allowed to move on for some stupid reason. Look, I’m sorry you’re dead. I’m trying here, okay? Are you alright or something?”





	1. A Soulmate Is Never Late, Dave Strider, nor Is He Early. He Arrives Precisely When He Means To.

**Author's Note:**

> Yesterday, at 3AM, as I was preparing to shower (hey, I don’t judge you for when you choose to shower), a sentence floated to the forefront of my mind, in Dave’s "voice" for some reason: “This is the part where I ask if you have any regrets I guess.”  
> Don’t ask me why that happened, I have no idea. I was probably half asleep already. I suddenly wanted to write Dave as Death, greeting Karkat in the afterlife. This isn’t exactly that, but it’s out there.  
>   
> Warning: there's detailed discussions of some disturbing themes. the story overall is almost disgustingly tame and, all things considered, quite funny, but they think and talk about disturbing subjects. Look at the tags, I've listed them. especially suicide is a major theme. please be careful if it might be a difficult subject for you.

Karkat opens his eyes.

He’s in a small white room. The walls, ostensibly plain walls, are emitting a white light. It’s not bright in here, even though all four walls and the floor and the ceiling are white and glowing. There’s no furniture and only one door. The door is white and plain as well. A distinct lack of smell and sound permeates the room. A thin guy is sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the door. He’s the only color in the room, with his red shirt and blue jeans and aviator shades. He’s staring at his hands.

Karkat looks at the guy. He looks at the ceiling. He looks at himself, his black sweater and black jeans that he’s pretty sure he wasn’t wearing five seconds ago. His dark skin looks sickly in the white light. He sucks in air. The room hasn't gotten any less plain or white yet.

“Shit! Fuck," Karkat hisses. The guy jumps to his feet. “What the actual fuck. Of course. I should have known. Newton’s Law, I guess, states that everything that is fucked will always remain fucked.”

The guy ambles closer, raising his hands. “Whoa. Dude. Hey. So. This is usually the part where I tell you what’s going on, but I’m guessing you’ve already figured out the gist of it. Uh. Good. It’s always weird to tell people they’re dead, even for an icecool dude like me.”

Karkat couldn’t have possibly imagined anybody he would’ve liked to meet less in the afterlife. The Texan accent, the weird posturing, the slouch... Karkat grits his teeth. “Tell me what’s going on anyway, asshole. God, who even are you?”

“Um, hi. I’m Dave. Dave Strider. Uh, you’re dead. Sorry. If, uh, if you’d like to pump out some tears or something, just know that this is a total judgement-free zone. It’s all okay and all. Really. People do all sorts of stuff and I’ve never judged, okay? If, uh, if you need a hug, I guess that’d be fine, too. Some people do. I mean, I’m not the best hugger, but I guess I’d give it a try. The old lady that came before you thought the hug was okay.”

Karkat does his best not to pull a face at the comfort offered. It’s well-intentioned, he does realize that. It’s just also the last thing he wants.

He looks Dave over. White guy, probably around Karkat’s age, which would make him 16 years old. Incredibly pale blond hair, thinner than anybody has any right to be, clothes ill-fitting, pokerfaced despite the awkward rant, really weird aviator shades, nails bitten down. “Are you... are you Death?”

“No. Uh, I’m not Death. Not as far as I know, at least. That’d be major weird, right?”

“That’d be weird? Yeah. This situation hasn’t been weird at all so far. But that! That would be weird.”

“Bro, you don’t have to tell me this is weird.” Dave crosses his arms. “I’m not Death. I’m dead, just like you. I just haven’t been allowed to move on for some stupid reason. Look, I’m sorry you’re dead. I’m trying here, okay? Are you alright or something?”

“Am I alright?!”

“Man, considering the situation, I guess. Hey, this whole fuckfest isn’t exactly in any etiquette guides, I don’t know what to say either.”

Karkat sits down on the floor and sighs loudly. The air leaving his lungs feels good. “Fuck. I guess it could be worse. If the afterlife exists, hell must exist too, right? Shit, who’d have thought the maggotfaces on the Bible Channel were right all along? But I’m not there, so that’s at least something. I’m in here with you. Wait. You’re not the devil, are you?”

“Whoa. No...” Dave grimaces. His face snaps back into a pokerface immediately after. “Bro. Dude. The devil? Damn. You think you’re a nice bro, you think you’re relatively good looking, you think you’re so dope the birds can’t handle it... next thing you know, somebody asks you if you’re the devil. Shaking my head.”

“Don’t be a dick. I’m sorry, okay? For what it’s worth, you don’t seem like a devil kind of guy.” Karkat buries his head in his hands at the stupidity of his own words. “Fuck. You know what I mean. Hey, I’m just trying to figure this fucking shitfest of unheard of proportions out, too. No need to feel personally attacked. Didn’t you say this was a no-judgement zone?”

“Right. Yeah. I mean, the no-judgement zone was meant to be, like, temporary. For first reactions I guess. But yeah. Hey, you’re taking this whole thing very well, actually. Uh, kudos for that? Shit, never mind, that’s a stupid thing to say. Anyway, don’t fret or wring your hands or anything, this will all be over soon. All you have to do is walk through that door. I have negative amounts of knowledge concerning what’s on the other side, but I’m sure it’ll be all daisies and sunflowers.”

Karkat doesn’t answer Dave, just looks around the room and back at the door. He presses his lips together. Bites down on them.

Dave fidgets, then says, “It’s... Look, man. It’ll be okay. I--Fuck. This never gets any easier. So. Moving on is rock hard, letting go of your loved ones is, uh, horrible, I’m sorry this is happening. Um. You will find loved ones on the other side, too, I’m sure. Is that comforting? Anyway. Feel free to shoot the breeze with me about whatever you want, right? Most people like to talk about their past life at this point.”

Karkat still stays silent. He’s vibrating with unsaid thoughts. His fingernails dig into the skin of his hands.

Dave rocks forward and backward on his feet. He shrugs. “This is the part where I ask if you have any regrets I guess.”

Karkat explodes. “Oh, do I have fucking regrets?! Regrets?! I’ll tell you about my regrets! I regret that The Powers That Be didn’t give me a decent fucking mother! I regret that I’ve been surrounded by assholes and criminally stupid morons my entire life! I regret the fact that cruelty and a complete lack of sense seem to be the only pillars on which the foundation of the human soul stands. I regret the moment my parents first discovered the delights of sex! I regret that even offing myself didn’t do anything to alleviate the sheer and utter miserable horridness of my mere existence! You think I want to move on?! You think I will simply stand up and walk out of that door into the void to discover what new horrors the universe has in its back pocket for me? Fuck you. Fuck you.”

Dave doesn’t miss a beat. “Whoa... You killed yourself?”

“Yeah, I fucking did.” Karkat’s voice is lower. “I cut my wrists. _That_ is something I don’t regret.”

Karkat remembers the last moments, that sudden terror. The three seconds of overwhelming regret. The way he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Clawing at the walls of the bathtub. Red. Everything red and wet. Pain. So much fucking panic.

Karkat shudders and pulls the sleeves of his sweater over his hands.

“Man, shit. So that’s why you kept your chill when finding out you’d kicked the water receptacle. Most people freak. Wow, okay, that’s... I mean, hey, at least you weren’t surprised by this whole thing. Oh, wow, everything makes so much sense now. It’s like when somebody just fucking smashes a lightbulb over your head and suddenly you realize... ‘hey, this dude is only annoyed because he didn’t think there was an afterlife, not because he’s dead.’”

“God. When I talked about the sweet release of death, I meant it. Turns out that was a lie. Instead I get conversations with some guy. What do you think will happen if I do it again here?”

That kicks Dave into a flurry of waving hands. “Whoa, you think I’ll just sit here and watch you peace the fuck out like that? Nope. Not Dave Strider. It’ll get better or something. No, really, there must be some sort of sense to all of this. Just walk through that fucking door, bro. Who knows what’s waiting there?”

A tone of bitterness creeps into Dave’s voice when he adds, “I certainly don’t.”

Karkat shakes his head and glares. “Why can’t you go through? Why should I be the fucking clown that leaves to have his black soul be judged or whatever while you frolic around here without any worries?”

“Exactly, I’m totally frolicking. In fact, I’m practicing ballet in here. You interrupted my quest for the perfect plié. Besides, I don’t think your soul will be judged or whatever... I think you’ll be reborn. Fresh new start and all that. It’s like the moment in _Twilight_ when Bella moves to Forks.”

Karkat groans. “God, fuck you.”

“No, really, I think you’ll be reborn. Reincarnated. Whatever. Isn’t that a pillar of Hinduism or something?”

“Yeah, because if there’s somebody whose assumptions about the afterlife I trust, it’s a random white teenager from Texas. If you’re so keen to find out, why don’t you walk through the fucking door, hm, Dave? Why should I be the one that has to put up with being fucking reincarnated?”

“Don’t you trust the words that drip from my ice cold lips, man? I told you, I can’t. I physically can’t. I tried. It’s like there’s a wall. I tried walking through, running through, doing the sickest backflip ever, I tried going so slowly that maybe the abstract metaphysical powers that have decided to hold me wouldn’t notice. Nothing worked. All I have is this note I found in my pocket.”

He pulls a crumpled up small white paper out of his back pocket and holds it out. Karkat grabs it and reads. It consists of three typewritten sentences.

 

> I’m sorry, Dave, I’m afraid I can’t let you through yet.
> 
> Have you ever read Plato’s Symposium?
> 
> You’ll have to wait.

 

“Well. God or whoever wrote this is a massive fucking douchebag. The biggest of all douchebags. I’ve always known it. I can scarcely imagine a less helpful note.”

“Yeah.” Dave takes the note back and looks at it with a wry twist to his mouth. “I haven’t, by the way.”

“Yeah, seriously no offense, Dave, but you don’t look like somebody who reads Greek philosophers in his spare time.”

“None taken. I’d have googled it, but there’s no Wi-Fi in heaven, apparently. Three out of five stars, I’ve had better accommodations.”

“I think two out of five, actually. Does not meet expectations. And I’ve had better too and that’s coming from the guy who killed himself. What do you think the note means?”

“That I’m waiting for somebody else to cha-cha off the mortal coil. Not to be morbid. But hey, time moves differently here anyway, I think. It’s a 2D thing or something, maybe. So it might not be super long now.” Dave’s voice tapers off in the end.

“Alright.” Karkat leans back until he’s lying on the floor. “I’ll wait with you, then.”

“You really want to stay here? Dude, you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why ever the fuck wouldn’t it be?” He can’t help the tone of petulancy.

“Why? No, man, go ahead. I don’t care. I don’t know either why I would think that messing around with the rules of the afterlife might be a bad idea. It’s not as if this is bigger than either of us. We’re totally not ants in the grand scale of things.”

“You can’t make me leave. I’m used to being unwanted somewhere. I’ll stay anyway.”

Dave doesn’t answer. In the corner of Karkat’s eye, he presses the toe of a dirty sneaker against the floor.

Karkat says, “Look, don’t worry. I’ll move on when your person comes. Okay?”

He thinks it might be a lie, but he’s already said it.

Dave sighs. “Man, go ahead and do what you like. And... It’s not that you’re unwanted. That’s not it, okay? All I meant is that I wouldn’t want this whole building to come crashing down around us like we're living in the dopest of action movies. That’d be mildly unfortunate. Well, it’s not a building, probably, but. Yeah. The metaphysical structure. That you can touch. Semi-metaphysical. No, that makes no sense.”

“I know that’s not how you meant it.”

Dave nods and sits down next to him. “Tell me about your life?”


	2. You're a Falling Star, You're the Getaway Car...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally said this would have 2 chapters. I've changed my mind. I think this'll have 3 chapters in total.

Karkat’s voice is hoarse, his eyes hurt. His skin feels dry, his lips cracked. He didn’t cry, but he might as well have.

“Fuck, I feel like somebody ran over my prostrate body with a monster truck.” Karkat clears his throat. “So what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, oh Lord of Sidestepping. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you evading all of my attempts to bring the conversation around to _your_ tragic backstory? I noticed, Dave. Karkat Vantas always notices these things.”

Dave crosses his arms. “No, man. Hey. Why would I focus on my pithy problems when you’re out here spilling the whole damn can about a fucking lifetime of self-harm and being bullied and oh, lest we forget the abandonment? So, we didn’t really get to focus the laser of our attention all that much on your brother; maybe we should? I’m just brainstorming good conversation topics here. Just fishing for inspiration.”

“Fishing for a diversion, more like. I’m going to ask you a direct question now, Dave. Tell me. How did you die? I told you mine.”

“I just figured, ‘Hey, I’m way too dope for this’. And then I peaced out of there. I ascended to heaven with angels in the background singing Britney Spears. Would you like to know which song, Karkat?”

“No, I would not. Look, I’m just being reasonable here. It’s not curiosity. It’s not. But we are having a feelings jam. If you ever were to talk about these things--and you definitely should--now would be the best time. Obviously, something horrible happened.”

“Look at you. Mr. Adaptive Coping Methods over here.”

“Don’t be a dick. I’m trying to help. Are you in denial or what?”

Dave scrambles to his feet in the most inelegant way possible. “As if you know how to deal with feelings. You fucking offed yourself.”

Karkat bares his teeth. “Fine. Stay here forever and never talk about it. I don’t care, you piece of shit. I’ll be over here, ignoring you. And pretending you don’t get bruises on your face when you’re upset.”

Dave freezes at that. “What?”

“When you get upset. I told you to listen to me, dickhead. _Now_ you’re interested in what I have to say? It has something to do with the magic here or something, I think. When you get upset, bruises show up on your face. They fade away when you calm down. But they’re not actually fucking _gone_ , Dave. You won’t fucking get rid of those.”

Dave shakes his head and turns towards the back of the room. Immediately, he spins back around. “That’s... I don’t know anything about that. I don’t see anything. They don’t mean anything. I don’t even feel them. Maybe you’re just imagining them. I’m literally so unconcerned you couldn’t shove the amount of lack of concern I have up your ass.”

There they are again. Dark red on Dave’s face, his arm. Through the rips of his jeans. Dave paces the room. “This is complete and utter bullshit. Why are you even talking about completely irrelevant stuff? I’m just saying, you come here and you don’t even give a tenth of a fuck about what any of this even means? I’m not high, you’re way too much of a sad fuck to be high, neither of us is imagining this room or the note, but whatever transcendental higher medium is slumming it somewhere around here somehow just doesn’t concern your oh-so-focused mind, does it? You just decide to tell humanity’s inevitable fate to talk to the hand? We all have to move on, maybe you should too.”

Karkat jumps up. He broadens his stance and watches Dave move around the room. “And you’ve moved on already, have you? That’s why you’re sitting around here looking like Satan’s punching bag?”

“I’m literally stuck here, asshole, this shit’s quicksand for me. There’s nothing wrong with my being here. There’s everything wrong with what you’re doing.”

“Hey!” Karkat moves into Dave’s path. Dave stops, breathing hard. Karkat drops his hands and sighs. In a lower voice, he says, “Okay, never-fucking-mind. I’ll drop it. This is me dropping it faster than a hot potato and equally as nonchalantly. Which is to say not at all nonchalantly. But I am dropping it.”

Karkat also drops his body to the floor. He’s close enough to the door to touch it now and he eyes it distrustfully. He’s still not quite sure some huge angel in a golden dress won’t walk out and put him in a headlock and drag him out like some sort of limbo bouncer.

“Alright. Okay. I’m considering that officially hot potatoed.” Dave stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I’d offer some sort of new subject, but this environment doesn’t really present a whole lot of safe subjects. I didn’t want to have any heart-to-hearts regarding religion while I was alive, I don’t now that I’m dead either.”

“So you don’t have some sort of theory regarding all of this? The whole miserable set-up?”

Dave lowers himself to the floor next to him. “I have a whole ass full of theories and no way to Q.E.D. any of them. I’ve been chilling here for a while, Karkat, and no sick beats or ill verses to distract me except the ones my own mouth can spin out. Drives you batshit insane if you think too hard.”

Karkat stares at Dave. He imagines Dave sitting in here, alone, for weeks, with nothing but his own thoughts. And those bruises. He knows they’re there, even if they’re out of sight again right now. He imagines Dave seeing them on his own arms and feet and stomach and ignoring them, he imagines Dave lying on the ground and staring at the ceiling and thinking of anything but those bruises.

Then he remembers that Dave can’t see them.

His heart hurts.

“I’m not scared of being driven batshit insane, I already feel like I am. And I rarely fucking think.”

That gets him a tired, lopsided smile. “I think you’re good company.”

Karkat swallows. “...Says the guy that hasn’t had a real conversation with a person not in metaphysical transit in... how long?”

“I honestly haven’t the weakest idea. Time doesn’t really move in here so much as exist. And even that it does badly. Can’t even say the whole thing’s a waste of time if time doesn’t really exist. That’s good marketing.”

“God, what a shitshow. And you have a total sum of zero idea how to even recognize whoever it is you’re waiting for.”

“Hey, I just figured the celestial sparkles or whatever would give it away. I’m talking fireworks. Michael Bublé crooning in the background. Champagne bottles manifesting out of the void and popping their delicious juice everywhere. Or something. Shit, I don’t even know if my conclusion is playing somewhere in the same league as the actual truth.”

“I doubt it, to be honest.” Karkat holds up his hands to stop Dave from answering. “No, no, hold up. It’s Karkat Speaks time now. So this person... Explain this to me. You really think it’ll be some rando? Not somebody you already know? Jesus, this is all fucked up.”

“No,” Dave says. “Not anybody I know. Man, I don’t know, actually. You know that one scene in ‘Hangover’ where the dude does math and all of those pseudo-holographic formulas appear in white? That’s me with this shit, except there’s also a small trash fire in the background of the scene. I just got that note and this is what I deduced using my vast IQ.”

“Well, here’s what I have deduced using _my_ vast IQ: you’re just looking for an excuse to stay here. Or not an excuse to stay here, but definitely you’re not looking for a fucking solution. And don’t tell me I’m a hypocrite, I’m _not_ a hypocrite. My situation is vastly different from yours.”

Dave’s twisting his finger in his lap and speaking faster and faster now. “Yeah, right. No, totally different. Not a hypocrite. I’m not looking for a solution. _Yeah_ , all of those deductions are _so right_. Seduce me with your über-brain, daddy. Feels great to be planted on my ass in this _dope_ fucking room all day and all night, except of course day and night don’t exist, so just for the eternal non-passage of non-time, and move people on like the dumbest heavenly untrained receptionist, all the while wondering who the fuck it is that’s going to come through for me. You think I want to be waiting here for some sort of weird soulmate or something? You’re so fucking right. Yeah. Yes, Karkat. Good eye there.”

“Jesus, calm your dead tits. I can’t even tell anymore what you’re most upset about here. But I am, on occasion, a rational person and you are, on occasion, a rational person and problems can be discussed, so.” Karkat takes a deep breath. “Let’s unravel this shitshow of an entanglement metaphorical headphone for metaphorical headphone. Starting with the horse’s ass. You’re nervous about this person you’re waiting for?”

“I mean. How weird would it be if all of a fucking sudden, I don’t know, the president of China popped up and was like ‘hello, Dave. We’re soulmates’. And I wouldn’t even recognize he’s the president of China, so I’d be like ‘hey, man’. Anyway, would I then have to fuck the president of China?”

“I promise you, you don’t have to fuck the president of China.”

“Okay, but, like, there’s some sort of romantic subtone to this whole thing, isn’t there? The whole situation is taking waiting rooms to previously unexplored levels of romance. And I’ve only recently even starting telling people I’m bi and now there’s this Cosmic Fate shit? Or maybe I’m misreading everything and when the president of China pops up, I’ll, by coincidence, see sparkles and declare my undying love for him and he’ll be like ‘no homo, bro’.”

“That is all really fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean, though?”

“Yes, but I have an advantage you don’t.” Karkat gives Dave a proud smile. It feels strange, a little bit like he’s faking it. “ _I_ am a romance expert.”

“Wow.”

Karkat leans forward and gesticulates wildly with his hands. “This is how it works: Fate won’t be forced and it won’t force you. If you’re right about the basics of the setup, and that’s a big _if_ , the president of China is perfect for you and everything else will fall into place. Those worries you have about not fitting with this person are actually the least of your problems. The least, Dave. I could give you a whole list of more important problems. Anyway, I can prove it to you.”

“You can?”

“Oh, yes. Buckle the fuck up. We’re doing an experiment.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m ready for Metaphysics 101 with Professor Vantas.”

Karkat is so full of energy, he gets to his feet and starts pacing again. Dave stands up as well. “I want you to list different traits you want your soulmate to have. Then, once they show up, compare. You’ll see that fate was always right, that you were able to describe them even without knowing them. Trust me, life is shit, but romance is the light in the darkness.”

“Okay, love the enthusiasm, I can just see the PowerPoint slides you’re mentally preparing on the subject, but. Man, I don’t know. Listing things I want in a honey? Big ass, big heart, can throw down some dope rhymes. That’s the whole extent of my wishes. Besides, once they’re here, it won’t matter anyway.”

Karkat’s strides halt. “What do you mean?”

“You know, I’ll be like ‘theory proven, the Nobel prize goes to Karkat Vantas, yay’, but I’ll have to swagger on immediately and won’t remember shit afterwards anyway, so I guess there’s not really a point. So. I mean, we can do it. Never mind, here I am, disappointing this poor suicidal kid. Let’s just do it.”

“You fool. Of course it matters.”

“Hey, I said we should do it.”

“The point. The point.” Karkat’s getting louder now, confusion in his voice. “The point is being happy you _know_ , even if it’s just for a short time! The point is knowing! The point is, I don’t know! The point’s just the five seconds of excitement over the fact that you understand soulmateship, I guess! I mean, what’s wrong with that! Just because we’ll forget it and there’ll be literally no impact on anything whatsoever doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it! Fuck, what else is there to do here anyway besides being confused? You can’t just want to lay down and let everything happen to you?”

“That’s not what I meant. And I feel like now you’re just using this whole thing as a metaphor for life as a whole.”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Yeah, dude. You totally are.”

“I don’t care about life. I killed myself. I don’t care.”

“Yet. Here you are. Telling me the point of life is happiness.”

“That’s not what I said. The point of life is sticking it to higher powers. That’s what I meant. That’s the only interpretation I’m willing to accept.”

“But what does sticking it to higher powers do? Make you happy. Checkmate, bro.”

“Stop engaging me in philosophical discourse! Go back to making dick jokes.”

“This place makes it hard. To stop engaging you in philosophical discourse, of course.”

“Oh, fuck you. That was forced.”

“Not at all. Not at all. Embrace the dick jokes, Karkat.”

“I have absolutely nothing against dick jokes. I have something against forced dick jokes.”

“I also have nothing against dick. My name’s not Jokes, by the way.”

“I don’t like you. I don’t like you at all.”

“I hate being an unrecognized genius. This must be how van Gogh felt.”

Karkat sighs. “So you’re... van Cock?”

Dave whistles. “Fuck my soulmate. I’m going to marry you.”

Karkat hides his face in his hands. “Don’t be stupid.”

There’s no answer. After a few seconds, Karkat drops his hands and looks up. Dave has his head turned away. He’s biting his lips. There’s pink in his cheeks. It occurs to Karkat that Dave’s embarrassed.

Karkat pulls his shoulders up and says, “No, honestly. I literally just slit my wrists. Doesn’t scream ‘great happy future together’.”

“Don’t say bullshit like that,” comes the mumbled answer. Dave’s still not looking at him. “That’s just dumb.”

“It’s definitely not! Don’t doubt my facts if you don’t have better ones!”

“Come on, dude. You can’t honestly think you’re, fuck, I don’t even know what you’re thinking. But I know you’re wrong because you’re not hopeless and you don’t hate everything. That’s fucking obvious. Just looking at the way you’ve been working to help me with my stupid issues.”

Karkat’s fists are clenched. “Your stupid issues aren’t my stupid issues. Whether or not or _how_ I help you doesn’t mean anything. I don’t even fucking know what you’re going on about! You know what? I’m proud of what I did! Don’t think I’m not! I don’t regret killing myself!”

“Don’t you?” Dave’s voice breaks. “Sure. Would you really do it again if you could make it permanent now? You’re the one who’s creating little experiments and rambling on about fate and romance and life as if it all matters to you. You’re honestly willing to give it all up again? You’re willing to go into complete _blankness_?”

Karkat’s entire face screws up. “God, shut up! You don’t know anything! There wasn’t anything to hope for! Nothing to fucking live for! There was no point to it all! Just never-ending misery.”

“We literally just talked about this. You said the point is happiness! You said that laying down and giving up isn’t the point.”

“Well, _there was no fucking happiness_!” Karkat’s throat feels raw from screaming it so loudly. “And I didn’t mean it like that anyway!”

“I don’t care. You just only meant it if it’s about me, not you. And anyway, I mean it like that now. If there was no happiness, you just didn’t look for it hard enough.”

Karkat falls to his knees and starts sobbing. “Shut up!”

“Fine!”

He thinks Dave’s walking away from him, but he honestly can’t tell. His chest hurts, he can barely breathe.

He yells after Dave, “There was no happiness!”

“I don’t fucking care anymore!”

“I wanted to be happy! I just couldn’t!”

No answer.

“What, you think trying the shitshow again will change anything? It won’t.”

Dave’s voice is closer, lower. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not fucking sure! Fuck.”

Karkat still can’t breathe, but the cold floor feels good when he lays his face down.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Karkat.”

“I don’t fucking know. I had doubts until the end. I had doubts during the end. But I... I don’t, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Of course you can.”

“Fuck. Stop trying to motivate me. I don’t actually want motivation. Since when are you Mr. Pool Animator?”

“Sucks for you, I guess. Now get the fuck up and move the fuck on.” Dave strikes a little cheerleader pose.

Karkat hiccups and laughs halfheartedly. He gets up.


	3. And It's Nice Enough to Make a Man Weep, but I Don't Weep, Do You?

Karkat shakes his head. “I don’t want to just leave you here.”

“Excuses. X-to-the-C-to-the-uses.”

Karkat cocks his head to the side and regards Dave in all of his horribly gangly magnificence. Dave’s shirt is rumpled and a tiny bit too big. His lips are chapped. He’s standing in a slouch and drumming his fingers against his thigh. The bleak white lighting is making him look like a ghost in a cheap t-shirt.

Karkat probably doesn’t look much better. He hasn’t washed his hair in three days. Hadn’t washed his hair in three days. It didn’t matter. Hell, it still doesn’t really matter, does it? Not here, where nothing is real. Except, of course, Dave.

Dave and his dirty pink sneakers.

“Or maybe I’m being a nice human being. Surely if I could stand seeing a sight this sad and leaving, I’d already be in hell anyway. Perhaps, despite life’s and afterlife’s continued love for fucking with me, my soul is more latte macchiato than espresso. Is that not an option? That seeing your lone, quivering form in the middle of this soulless parody of a waiting room triggered some lone spark of empathy within me?”

“Bullshit,” Dave says, but it sounds _fond_. “Now you’re just bullshitting me. You’re basically dripping empathy every second of every nonexistent day. From the moment you arrived here, you’ve just been flinging empathy around like a monkey does poop.”

“That’s factually inaccurate and both of us know it and I refuse to stand here and look into your shades while you lie so blatantly to the world. Besides, if that were true, wouldn’t it hypothetically also be a reason for me to stay?”

“If you think I’m letting you stay, you’ve got a whole list of things coming. Transparent, dude. That’s what this is. I can see through your excuses with my X-Ray XXL Mega Laser Vision. Come on. This is like the last ten minutes of a sports anime episode. I’m at the edge of my seat rooting for you. Find those hidden powers, bro.”

“They are absolutely not excuses and I will prove it and you will look pretty dumb. I will walk through that fucking door. If—” Karkat holds up a finger. “If you try first as well.”

“Man, I’ve already done that a bazillion times. It just sort of physically repels me. Like pee porn. I mean, I don’t judge, but when I see that shit I stand up and walk away from my phone for a minute. Okay, maybe I do judge. But I do it in the privacy of my own home. That’s just good internet culture.”

“Dave. The door. I will not be distracted. Maybe it’s about mindset or something. You don’t know what Old Plato said, maybe this isn’t about soulmates at all! Fate’s a dick even more than karma is a bitch. You kill yourself and the only thing you get out of it is the powers that be being snobbish about your lack of knowledge on the topic of ancient Greek philosophers. I only know the cave thing. Maybe you need to recognize that the stuff you see on the mortal plane is just an idea or whatever that shit was all about. Anyway, fuck all of that, this time around we’re going to try going into it with the right mindset.”

Dave shrugs. It just makes him look petulant. “Yeah, right, and with a nice round of yoga and maybe a breathing exercise and vegan tea, I’ll be able to leave purgatory. They left that little perk out of their motivational pro-yoga social media posts.”

“Isn’t all tea vegan?”

“Mr. Focused right here.”

“What’s the harm in trying it one more time at least? This soulmate person might never come along! Forget the experiment and the romanticism of the whole thing, you can't keep on wallowing in loneliness like a fucking pig in dirt.”

“I don’t fucking like trying it, okay? Shit literally hurts. I’ll know when it’s time, alright? C’mon, Karkat, you’re just looking for an excuse to stay. It’s time, man. I’d ask you for your regrets, but we’ve already blown that horse corpse up a while ago.”

Karkat’s voice rises hysterically, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “You’re just looking for an excuse to sit around here _forever_!”

“I’ve fucking tried! I’ve tried all kinds of shit! It didn’t work.”

“Well, you haven’t tried _enough_! Don’t tell me you’re happy with this! Don’t tell me you’re not afraid you’ll be stuck here forever! Well, guess what, fucker? I’m afraid you’ll be stuck here forever too!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes shit just happens!” Dave says. There’s a horrible red bruise right at the edge of his shirt collar and Karkat can’t not stare at it. “And maybe some people are just destined to be forever stuck in some celestial waiting room or whatever the fuck. And that’s chill. That’s cool.”

“You—what, you’ve thought about it and that’s the conclusion you’ve come to out of all possible conclusions? You followed the possible-conclusions-tree to that particular conclusion and you plucked it and went home happy?! You’re avoiding the truth! The truth being that it’s not about whether you’re doing a stupid backflip or just walking through or whatever, but about your mind! And you don’t want to move on.”

Dave turns his head away. “You don’t fucking know that, man. Whole thing’s stupid. You’re just pulling shit out of your ass now.”

“I don’t see why you won’t just try again! Look into my fucking eyes as I tell you: Fuck figuring out soulmateship or whatever, I refuse to leave you alone here! Forget the stupid soulmate experiment! Forget the note! Fuck celestial fate!”

“I’ve already busted my ass trying again and again! You don’t get it.”

“The issue is that you haven’t figured out the true reason why you can’t move on! What you’re doing wrong or I don’t know! The key isn’t stupidly sitting around waiting for someone to come along! And I haven’t fucking figured it out either, but at least I’m searching for it! You’re telling yourself you want to move on and I can fucking see with my own eyes that _work_ that you are unhappy, but it’s not enough to make you want to _do_ anything.”

“There’s nothing to do, nothing to fucking search for. I’ve tried a million times! It’s just—It just is.” Dave holds up his hands and his voice goes even flatter than before. “Look, you just... do your thing, whatever you want to do, I’ll be over there, doing something different.” And then he just wanders off. As if there is anything to do in this fucking hellscape of an afterlife anyway.

“Oh sure. Walk away. Very mature. That’s exactly what I would have done in your situation because you are an absolute idol of mine when it comes to handling situations.”

Dave doesn’t answer him, but Karkat can hear muttering coming from him, like he’s talking to himself.

The air goes out of Karkat all at once.

“Dave,” he says. “Dave, look, I’ll stop talking about it. Dave. Fine. I will literally pack up my totally justified and rational worry and stuff it into the metaphorical closet of silence and pretend it’s not there if that’s really what you want.”

Dave turns around. “It’s literally chill, man.”

Which is such a stupid thing to say. Considering literally everything. Karkat smiles at him and it feels like a real smile even if it wasn’t when he decided to smile. “You’re literally so...”

A beat.

Dave says, “Wow.”

“Shut up, I was going for a compliment.”

“Oh.” Dave rubs the back of his neck. “Okay then. Well done.”

“Hilarious. Look, I have another suggestion. You won’t like this one either. I can practically feel you gearing up to say no and I’m just going to go ahead and—”

“Bullshit. Lay it all one me, bro. Suggestion blanket pile.”

“Yeah, okay, well, I was thinking...” Karkat takes a deep breath. He has absolutely no idea what he’s doing here. He’s just following his instincts. He’s about to fuck it all up. “I’ll move on under one condition.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“You tell me how you died.”

“I didn’t—“ Dave makes an aborted gesture with his hand.

“You didn’t _die_? That’s horseshit.”

“Fuck. Man, no, that’s a stupid condition. Like.” He fidgets. “It’s a stupid story. When I first came here, I didn’t even clock onto what the fuck was happening for a while. That’s how stupid it is.”

“Yeah, that it took you a while doesn’t surprise me at all. You do have a tendency to be in denial.”

Dave bares his teeth. It’s so unexpected, Karkat’s heart stops for a second. He can almost feel the blood drain from his face.

Dave hisses, “You don’t know anything about me. You’re just walking around pretending you do and it’s not cute. Who are you, my post-mortal therapist? You and what scientifically sound psychological education?”

Karkat’s heart is beating so fast now he can feel it in his ears.

“No, fuck you, that’s, that’s _unfair_ and _stupid_ and you don’t honestly—” Karkat’s voice breaks. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Karkat hates himself so much for stammering. Talking to people is so much easier when you can just write online, when you don’t have to do it to their faces. “You’re right, I don’t know anything about you and I shouldn’t have—. It’s as if sometimes my brain just gets struck with Morbus Idiotus for a second. I just wanted to help, sue me. No, don’t sue me. I mean, forget it. You’re in the right and I’m just, I don’t know, engaging in bullshit bukkake apparently. What, did you expect the suicidal kid to be socially graceful?”

He winces. It was meant to come out funny, but of course he’s incapable of saying anything without sounding defensive and pathetic. “It’s none of my business. I’ll leave now, as I said I would. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to leave now. Remember when we fought about that? I told you I was going to prove it and I’m doing it now.”

Karkat doesn’t really want to move on anymore, can’t think about walking through that door without wanting to throw up, but it seems better than continuing to fuck literally everything up here.

Dave is at his side before Karkat can register the fact that he’s moving at all. “No, bro, wait. It’s alright. It’s not a big deal, man. I guess I just, it was, don’t, it’s not a big deal, but I guess I starved to death. It’s not a big deal.”

Karkat freezes. “Fuck, I knew it’d be horrible—it’s not as if there are just some ways to die that are not horrible—but fuck, that’s horrible.”

“It wasn’t so bad, really. It’s just sort of falling asleep. I think I was listening to Death Cab for Cutie, which is just too fitting, and it was overall actually quite okay. 8/10, I died, but it wasn’t too horrible.”

“I’m _so_ glad you have such a _positive_ outlook on your death, but fucking fuck. What happened? Why, you know...? Was it a money thing? Fuck, I’m being totally insensitive here.”

“Nothing _happened_.” Dave’s voice breaks. Like he doesn’t believe it himself.

For once in his life, Karkat keeps quiet.

“Look, that’s just how things were in our household. Nothing happened.” Dave speaks in a monotone, but his voice gets progressively louder and louder. “You know that thing where you’re in the middle of a situation and you just suddenly mentally wake up and look around and think about how weird this would all sound if you told the details to someone who doesn’t know anything about your family or stuff? Anyway, that’s just life, man. You may quote that on any internet blogs you like. So whatever I say about how my Bro didn’t know how much blood I’d lost or anything, it’ll come out sounding weird. It was an accident, sometimes you’re just too wiped-out, you know, tired to get up and acquire something to eat and—Come on, man, don’t look like that. It’s not how it sounds.”

There’s ice in Karkat’s veins. His throat is hoarse, as if his internal screaming has somehow managed to leave a ghost imprint. “Dave, —“

“No, no, seriously, it’s, it’s like hot dogs, it sounds much worse than it is. And it was my fault, okay, it wasn’t _his_ fault, it wasn’t his fault, he’s probs freaking out. Or freaked out, it’s not as if the timelines here and there are parallel lines, so whatever he did we don’t know if he’s already done it, and what he did or will do or is doing was do a nice backflip and dive off of Coolness Mountain right into Mourning Lake. And that’s depressing, right, you think that’s a depressing thought and I think that, too, and we’re being thought buddies right now. We both think it’s sad if a cool older bro mourns his cool little bro, it’s sad, but it’s the only reaction that makes sense, so, hey, _c’est la vie_. Imagine if he just, I don’t know, went all, ‘welp, the weak kids who are too stupid to feed themselves get culled off, time to burn some My Little Pony scented candles in Darwin’s honor’, that’d be over the top. Haha. So, sad reaction, which is sad, but, like, doesn’t provoke a feeling like you’re sticking it to the man or something. I see that face you’re making, Karkat, stop that.”

“If the face you’re referring to is the expression I’m making as my heart is ripping itself to shreds, then I am hereby informing you that I will not stop.” Karkat takes a deep breath, but there isn’t enough air in the entire afterworld to calm him down. His voice breaks as he says, “Dave. God, Dave, you—”

“God, don’t. Jesus, I fucking know, okay? I fucking know. But it really does sound much worse than it is. I’m making it sound worse because I’m—”  Dave’s voice leaves him for a second. “—I’m not super happy about how things ended up, I guess. I mean. I’m dead.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m dead.”

And then, between one breath and the next, Dave’s entire demeanor changes. “I’m fucking dead! And let’s be fucking honest, it’s his fault, and I don’t even know how he reacted to finding me because that man has never fucking shown me any fucking love! Am I supposed to believe _toughening me up for the world_ or whatever is his way of showing love? Because that’s absolutely fucking ridiculous and I would laugh, but I’ve literally been trained not to show any fucking emotions! And you know what? Fuck him! _Fuck him_! That was never the right thing for me!”

Dave throws his arms out, gesticulates at their bland surroundings. “What did it do for me except _kill me_? I have been sitting around here for what feels like years and it’s as if every single second in this absolutely absence of anything worth living for is just mocking me because it feels like that’s what he wanted me to be like! Like this fucking room is the literal representation of it, minus the irony! And I’m not fucking meant for this! Every minute longer here just lays it all out like a fucking buffet of too-late realizations and I’ve been having this party for years and all of the food has gone stale!”

Karkat yells, “Then go with me!”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s about believing in it!”

“Bullshit it is,” Dave yells back.

“Fucking forget Plato or whoever! Forget what that fucking note said! Just go with me! Hey! I don’t care how cliché it sounds, choose your own fate, asshole! Save yourself and don’t fucking wait around! This is stupid!”

“You’re the one who chose to stay here. I never wanted it! I’ve been literally telling you why you should go for hours! Now you’re Professor Don’t Lie Down And Accept Defeat?”

“Well, let’s fucking go then!” Karkat screams and Dave jumps up and grabs his hand and drags him over to the door.

It’s white and wooden and non-descript. It feels like it looms over Karkat and he, without thinking, digs his heels in and tugs Dave back.

“Jesus fuck, Karkat. We were in a flow.”

“Don’t,” Karkat panics before he can think. “Fuck, just wait a second.”

Dave looks back at him. He’s breathing hard and he’s not smiling, but there’s a happier twist to his mouth.

Karkat assumes his Reasonable Voice, even as panic makes his heart pump. “It’s not as if we can be sure about this. It’s not as if either of us can say with any measure of certainty what’s on the other side. Fuck, maybe they’re just sending us straight through to hell.”

Dave shakes his head. “You and I both know there’s no way we won’t do this after all of that.”

Dave reaches out and opens the door. Pure blackness looms out at them from the other side.

Even though they’re standing upright on firm ground, it feels like they’re hanging in the air, like they’re just waiting for the fall. Like they’ve overstayed their welcome. But now that the energy’s gone again, neither of them is willing to make that first step.

They’re still holding hands. Karkat’s never held anyone’s hand before. He likes it. He swallows and looks at Dave. Most likely his last look ever.

Dave is so skinny and now that Karkat _knows_ , it hurts to look at him. He throws a look at the small cut behind Dave’s ear, wonders how exactly he got it more than he wonders why it’s visible right now. Dave’s right fingers drum against his thigh again and Karkat’s so glad that Dave is incapable of not fidgeting. Since they’re standing side by side, Karkat can see Dave’s profile, his eyes and a hint of his pale eyelashes behind his shades.

Dave blinks and Karkat watches his eyelashes move and something clenches in Karkat. He squeezes Dave’s hand.

 “Let’s just go. Let’s just fucking go,” he says.

Nothing stops them as they step through the door together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a Waiting for Godot reference. First chapter title is a Lord of the Rings movie reference. Second chapter title is from a Michael Bublé song. Third chapter title is from a Bukowski poem.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


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